


i feel her body like (the holy) ghost

by Cocoa_N_Donuts



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Also Kissing, F/F, Five Times, Nuns, and vows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cocoa_N_Donuts/pseuds/Cocoa_N_Donuts
Summary: Four times Beatrice runs, one time she walks. Also Avatrice is endgame
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 16
Kudos: 245





	i feel her body like (the holy) ghost

**Author's Note:**

> If I get the characters wrong, or any of the plot points wrong, it’s because I haven’t watched the show when I wrote it. I only edited it after I watched just to see how close I got. Thought I got it down pretty good. 
> 
> Don’t blame me, blame my gf, who forbade me to watch the show on my own but hasn’t had time to watch it with me. Until i couldn't control myself and turned to fanfiction and fanvideos. >:( I’M NOT CHEATING, YOU’RE CHEATING.

1 

Beatrice is a fantastic runner. Even better, Ava muses, than herself. Ava’s first instinct has always been flight over fight, especially when compared to Beatrice. Which was why Ava was absolutely stunned the first time Beatrice stares at her, gentle doe eyes wide open with surprise and fear, and breaks character fast and long enough to make a break for it and _run_ away. This throws Ava off long enough to think “what just happened?” before she even considers chasing after Beatrice: by which time, she was already long gone. 

Ava forgot what they were doing, reading some book or record together to figure out a plan for Ava to hone her halo-gifted powers. Well, Beatrice was, at least. Ava was only in for the ride, observing the warrior nun in her element more than doing actual research. 

That was before Ava notices a stray errant strand of Beatrice’s fringe waving in the wind, like a rebel flag proudly flown at base. Ava giggles, tucks it back into Bea’s habit without thinking. 

Cue her adorable doe-in-headlights expression and a running speed that would give Usain Bolt an honest run for his money. 

Two days later, Beatrice comes to her, poised and elegant as always, explaining how she had run to fix her habit. 

_That makes sense,_ Ava supposes, and they continue about their day. 

2 

It had been a nightmare. Ava awoke, gasping for air, clutching at the sheets, trying to throw off the sensation of being buried underwater, drowning again and again and again, her movements slowing, mired down again and again till all that was left was a choking paralysis, useless. She’d screamed and screamed but there was no sound, and she was…. all alone. No Camilla, no Mary, no Lillith, no Mother Superion, no JC...

No Beatrice. 

She throws the covers off of her, runs barefoot on the cold stone floor, in her thin pyjamas, to Beatrice’s room, and nearly hammers on the poor nun’s door at the most unholy of hours until it opens and—

‘Av— oof.’ Ava throws herself into Beatrice, desperately holding on to the other woman. 

Beatrice’s arms were slow to wrap around her, probably with the remnants of sleep. 

Ava pulls closer, wanting to feel the heat, the presence of another person. Of safety, of love, of… of… Bea. 

‘You said you’d never leave me alone.’ Ava sobs into Beatrice’s shoulder. 

‘A-Ava?’

‘I was dr-drowning, in a coffin. I was alone, screaming and screaming but nothing came out.’

Ava’s hands were scrambling for purchase on the other woman’s back, wanting to feel and make sure that this was reality, and not the visions that her subconscious had conjured up. 

She knew it was bordering on inappropriate, but Ava didn't have it in herself to stop herself, so she stooped to apologising. 

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…’

‘Shh,’ Beatrice shushes her, pulling Ava impossibly closer as she twists and guides both of them into her room, shutting the door behind them before running her fingers over Ava’s sleep mussed hair. ‘It’s just a dream, Ava. You’re okay. I’m here. I’m not leaving your side until you’re better, okay?’

Ava whimpers, burying her face into Beatrice’s neck. 

She repeats comforting words, a steady presence in the solitude of night, until Ava’s panic wears off and all is left is deep rooted exhaustion. 

The halo hums a dull warmth, soothing, in cadence to the swipes of Beatrice’s thumb on the small of her back, and Ava allows herself to be guided to Beatrice’s bed. 

‘Don’t leave me, please.’

Beatrice’s thumb rubs gently on the back of her hand. 

The whisper comes so silently, after so long, that Ava’s not quite sure if it’s from a dream, ‘Never.’

When she wakes, Beatrice is still holding her hand, asleep in the stiffest, the most uncomfortable looking position available to mankind on a chair next to her bed. 

Ava watches the morning light catch on Beatrice’s sleep-softened features, brunette hair cascading over a knee that props her cheek up. 

Ava is, for once, silent as she watches Beatrice’s breaths shallow, until her eyes pop open, and the nun stretches is short, tiny movements that don’t shake her hold on Ava’s hand, in a way that Ava can only describe as adorable. 

‘You should have slept with me.’

Beatrice freezes, her doe-in-the-headlights expression back. 

‘I couldn’t— you know I’m—‘ Beatrice stops in her tracks, gathering her thoughts, ‘You’re… an important friend, Ava. I would _never_ have betrayed your trust like that. Even if it means dealing with an uncooperative spine for the coming fortnight.’

Ava _tries,_ she really does, to ignore the heavy _thump_ that Beatrice’s words elicit from her heart. Not quite painful, but significant, and a very Beatrice-reminiscent weight settles in her chest. A click in the lock where a Beatrice shaped key fits into place.

But how can she ignore everything when Beatrice was right there, expression so _soft_ and full of _love_ and how could _anyone_ have thought that she is anything short of breathtakingly beautiful? 

And because she’s _Ava_ , she who does things without thinking, she pulls Beatrice in through their joined hands, murmurs a ‘You’re so _fucking_ beautiful’, curls a hand over Beatrice’s nape, and kisses her full on her lips, nun’s vows be damned. 

Only Beatrice responds, _primally._ In a heartbeat, Ava is on her back, Beatrice hovering over her, kissing her into the pillow, and all Ava could think of was Beatrice. Her scent, her taste, her smooth lips sliding over Ava’s slightly chapped ones. Beatrice soothes a tongue over the slit where her lips meet, and Ava groans before her lips part, and Beatrice draws away. 

Ava opens her eyes to see a myriad of emotions flitter across Beatrice’s face. Happiness, shock, love, disgust _…_

_Guilt._

It only occurs for Ava to ask for consent after she’d taken the liberty, and Ava is suddenly horrified, mortified, as Beatrice’s hand flies to her lips, she takes one look at Ava on her bed, and she spins and flees the room, habit-less and in her sleep clothes, no sign of her backache in stride. 

Ava flops back onto Beatrice’s bed, arm covering her eyes, panting hard as she tries to memorise the feel of Beatrice’s lips moving against hers. 

_Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned._

3

Beatrice always excels at what she sets her mind to, so it’s no surprise that when she is determined to avoid Ava, she succeeds with flying colours. Even Ava’s genius attempt at using her phasing powers to corner Beatrice into a conversation failed entirely. Beatrice had retreated behind a detached, impersonal facade, where she politely, deftly answered all of Ava’s questions with nary a reference to her own emotions: saying more with what she didn’t say with a finesse that simultaneously confused and impressed Ava to no ends. 

At last, Ava, chastened by her own actions that one fateful morning, apologised to Beatrice for kissing her without express consent, and slunk out of the room following a courteous, graceful dip of Sister Beatrice’s head. 

Where Beatrice had been guarded before, she was now an impenetrable fortress. 

Ava walked around with a perpetual figurative cloud of gloom over her head, and it needed no genius on the part of the other sisters to catch on. 

Sister Camilla, sweetest of them all, poked Ava’s shoulder at dinner one evening, disrupting Ava’s very somber contemplation of the peas on her plate while trying to ignore the magnetic presence of Bea not half a table away. 

‘What did the poor peas ever do to earn… this?’

Ava looks up, realises that she’s been mashing said peas into almost a liquified soup. 

She sighs and puts down her fork. 

‘I mashed up real bad with pea.’

There was a cough that sounded suspiciously like a camouflaged laugh from Sister Camilla. 

‘Is that so?’

Ava hides her face in the crook of her elbow. ‘Imightvekissedherwithoutpermissionandnow shehatesme’

‘Hmm’

‘Shesbeautifulandimprettysureiminlovewithherbutshedoesntwantanythingtodowithmenow‘

‘Mmhmm’

‘Ihatemyself’

This time, Sister Camilla chose to pat Ava on the back wordlessly, humming a little song. . 

4

Ava’s not ready. She doubts she’ll ever be ready to go up against the devil, a fallen angel, whatever, even with the halo literally at her back. 

Especially when Bea still isn’t talk-talking to her. 

He’d taken them by surprise, drawing an army of lesser demons to overwhelm them with sheer numbers. 

Ava slices into a lesser demon with her glowy sword and jumps behind a wall, looking up to the heavens as she catches her breath, ‘Some help?’

‘Please!’ Lilith slides in beside her, ‘some help “please”. Be polite to the Lord.’

Ava rolls her eyes, but does add in a “please” for good measure. 

She chances a glance at Adriel, who was glaring daggers at Beatrice, who was a whirlwind of cutting demons down on her own. 

She watches as Adriel raises a hand in Bea’s direction, energy forming in his outstretched palm...

‘NO!’ Ava phases through the wall, breaking cover and escaping Lilith’s grasp, and charges towards Adriel, arms over her head, as she prepares to strike the demon down with her glowy sword— but Adriel turns, and directs the full concentrated beam of energy at her unprotected chest. 

It sends her flying back into a pillar, cracking it, or her spine, before she slumps down at the base of it. 

The last thing she sees are running feet, panicked doe eyes checking her out, and the last thing she feels is unadulterated agony before she sinks into the comforting dark. 

5

The room was empty when Ava wakes. But there’s a chair that looks oddly familiarly positioned. 

The door opens and Beatrice steps in again, adjusting her coif slightly. Ava immediately snaps her eyes shut and tries to regulate her breathing like she’s sleeping. 

Not that she would know what _that’s_ like. 

There’s a rustle, and the next thing she knows, a cold hand slips into hers and holds her. 

Ava enjoys the contact for a few minutes, before she says, ‘You really should just join me in bed. I don’t mind, you know? 

The hand in hers stiffens, and Ava peeks an eye open just to see Beatrice begin to pull back. 

She holds on tighter to the hand, holds on to Beatrice’s gaze. 

‘I really didn’t want to presume, not with this and… not around me.’ Beatrice looked away, unable to hold Ava’s gaze any longer. 

Ava takes Beatrice’s hand in both of hers and waits, until the uncharacteristic silence prompts Beatrice to actually look at her. 

‘I meant it when I said that you’re beautiful. All of you. Bea, I like you. Like, like-like. This thing? Between us? Is important to me. And I rather have you as a friend than not at all, especially not because I kissed you without asking and it was all my fault I wasn’t thinking and read the whole situation wrong if you didn’t, you know, like-like me and pushed you to do something you were uncomfortable with and that was never my intention but I just don’t know how to handle such—‘

A slim finger, elegant and gentle, halts the flow of Ava’s babble. 

‘I wanted the kiss, Ava. I wanted too badly.’ 

Now it was Ava’s turn to stare a little blankly at Beatrice, ‘Oh. _Oh_.’

She couldn’t help but smile at Beatrice, bright and beaming. 

Beatrice returns it, smile hesitant but warm and sweet. 

‘Then… kiss again?’

‘Ava.’ Beatrice chastises, ‘I’m still a nun under my vows.’ 

Ava’s face falls, ‘Aw… wait does that mean that—we—‘

Beatrice shakes her head in exasperation ‘...if you would wait a year…’

‘Yes! Until then…’ Ava stretches her arm wide, expectantly, ‘hugs and cuddles are allowed, right?’

Beatrice sighs, and folds, not with a bang, but with a whimper of, ‘Yes.’

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Did I get it pretty well for someone who hadn’t even watched the show? Let me know!


End file.
